


Incident-987-1

by Steampunk_Chicken



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), SCP Foundation
Genre: Blood and Violence, But Nines will in fact cut a bitch if need be, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dehumanization, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed's offensive nicknames, Gen, Gratuitous Swearing, Gratuitous use of italics, I think in italics when I am upset, Is it friendship or pre-slash? You decide, Kidnapper RK900, Mentions of Insanity, Minor Character Death, Nausea, Not Beta Read, Or like an interesting bug that he is invested in learning more about, Panic Attacks, RK900 kinda treats Gavin like a pet, Shadow Manipulation, So damnit so does Gavin, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Supernatural Elements, TBH so would Gavin, The relationship grows more meaningful over time but that's how it starts, The rest of the tags are pretty spoilery, There is a 95 percent chance Gavin has or will have Stockholm Syndrome, Unnamed OC gets a broken nose for being a jerk, Upgraded Connor | RK900 is an SCP, read with caution, that is to say, too many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 15:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21646393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken
Summary: Gavin Reed did not want to be here, but when given the choice between 18 months in jail or two months of "social testing", 9/10 times prison is not favoured. It is what Gavin chose anyway. Now here he is, apprehension stirring in his gut as they are led past an alarming amount of heavy steel doors, armed guards and hazard signs. As the door slams shut behind him, he begins to wonder if maybe he should have taken the prison sentence. At least he knows what to expect from that, a fuck ton of fights and grudges from people he's put away... Actually yeah, no, not doing that thank you. This is fine, it should be quick, safe and easy... right?
Relationships: Gavin - Relationship, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed
Comments: 25
Kudos: 93





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [SCP-987, "Nines"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21627271) by [MarshieWeebo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshieWeebo/pseuds/MarshieWeebo). 



> This is single handedly the longest thing I have ever written, and also my first solo fic. It is an SCP au that me and Marshie worked out on the New Era discord, you should come join us :) https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> So, warning for Gavin's liberal application of nicknames and swear words. There is reason for the applications of each name to each person, but that remains to be seen. ~~I also find it endlessly amusing that literally no one but me has used a platonic relationship tag for Nines and Gavin.~~ Nevermind I was wrong, AO3 just decided I wasn't allowed to have soft platonic content I guess. Let me know in comments if you think I should tag anything else or put in a pre-chapter warning. Enjoy!

Gavin Reed did not want to be here, but when given the choice between 18 months in jail or two months of "social testing", 9/10 times prison is not favoured. It is what Gavin chose anyway, and apparently his bus partner Jonas (ugh, what are we, toddlers?) felt the same. From the fifteen minutes they were able to talk before Sergant Stick-Up-His-Ass shut them all up, he's learned that Jonas was in for involuntary manslaughter due to workplace negligance, he has a daughter who is fortunately able to stay with her mother, and he "really fucking hates the Detroit Gears". Fun. Gavin didn't get the chance to say much other than his name and a dry agreement about the Gears.  


After a rather boring hour and a half of complete silence, with not even the windows to keep him occupied since they're heading somewhere "top secret", they are all ushered off the bus through some sort of tarp tunnel. This is when he began to realize something wasn't right. God knows he isn't a cop anymore, nor will he be one ever again, but detective instincts don't exactly vanish and he's getting all sorts of vibes from this place.The guards march him, Jonas and eight other idiots down some maze-like hallways into a suspiciously normal looking cafeteria.  


Sergeant Stick-Up-His-Ass divides them into groups and takes his leave, forcing them all to approach the rather dead looking scientists at the edges of the room. He ends up in a group with Jonas, another man who looks like he's going through the late stages of withdrawal, and a woman with a particular kind of crazy in her eyes that Gavin knows is best to avoid. Their appointed scientist is a pasty 30-something man with wispy brown hair already speckled with gray, thick steel frame glasses settled atop his head.

The man gives a tired chuckle before addressing them. "Welcome to the SCP centre, hopefully you won't be here long. You four are going to be interacting with SCP-987 today over in holding room 528-D. He is a fairly passive euclid class as long as he isn't upset, so you have nothing to worry about." The man drones on for a while, never slowing down for even a moment, and Gavin finds himself wondering what "yoo-clid" even means, and why the man felt the need to emphasize their safety.  


The man finishes by telling them that their goal for the day is to make SCP-987 acknowledge them or react in some way. They have three hours to do so, and will be allowed to leave if the task is not finished within three hours. The man signals a guard from the hallway before he, or anyone else for that matter, has a chance to ask questions. Great. Druggie stutters his way through a question to the guard but is firmly ignored, so Gavin figures there is no point in trying and follows the escort team.

  


Now here he is, apprehension stirring in his gut as they are led past an alarming amount of heavy steel doors, armed guards and hazard signs. The moron squad, excluding junkie, shows no sign of fear and only minimal tension, but he doesn't really expect them to since this isn't the best place to show vulnerability. Druggie himself looks ready to piss his pants or puke, and Gavin pledges to keep his distance from the splash zone.  


Eventually they reach a room surrounded by a weird hologram field, ten armed guards and a sniper, which sets off a whole new rush of unease. The sign on the wall designates it as 528-D, made for the euclid class (ah, that's how its spelled), and the four of them are told to enter. Crossing the holographic field gives him a weird tingling feeling, and he shudders involuntarily as he walks through the imposing steel gate.  


The first thing Gavin notices is the smell, something sharp and chemical he can't put his name on. The next is a brown haired man standing ramrod straight in the far corner of the room, glaring them down with a painfully neutral expression. He is presumably "SCP-987". As the door slams shut behind him, he begins to wonder if maybe he should have taken the prison sentence. At least he knows what to expect from that, a fuck ton of fights and grudges from people he's put away... Actually yeah, no, not doing that thank you.  


Crazy eyes is the first of them to speak up. "Hey there big fella, how ya doin'?" she drawls, with an over the top New Jersey accent Gavin really wasn't expecting. "Tha's a nifty light you got there, real flashy." The man in the corner gives no reaction other than a slight shift of his head in her direction, though the circular light at his temple (*what?*) shines brighter for a moment.  


After a few tense seconds, Jonas is the next to try. "Nice place you got here, it's pretty big. I see you got some arts and crafts, huh? Small price to pay for not having a shitter." An insincere grin paints itself over Jonas' face as he exaggerates a look around the admittedly large room, gaze lingering on a strange statuette and an opened box of kidde chalk. The jab, much like the first attempt, has no effect on the tall brunette.  


Gavin doesn't bother to speak, nor does druggie, but he imagines that their reasons are quite different judging by the cloudiness of his eyes and the tremor in his hands. After a minute they all begin to walk around. Gavin keeps a healthy distance from both the weirdo in the corner and druggie, and starts to survey the room. With Jonas' comment fresh in mind, he notes that "SCP-987" does not in fact have a toilet in his cell. He doesn't have a cot, sink or food tray either, which he assumes must mean the staff either escort him out regularly, or this isn't his regular cell.  


In addition to the art supplies, he spots a worn tennis ball, a shredded bean bag chair, some drawings on the walls and a few pieces of warped metal so distorted he can't begin to imagine what they were originally meant for. He idly kicks one of the duller pieces, and winces at the unexpected weight of it and the loud metallic ring in the air.

  


Crazy eyes picks up chattering at Mr. Stiff again and Gavin tunes out the blonde's tittering falsetto as he approaches the walls near the scattered chalk. What he originally thought were erratically sketched grey lines were actually thick, shallow scratches in the concrete wall, which thankfully appear to be old, but are no less unsettling. Surrounding the gouges are small, simplistic drawings. A fluffy green tree the size of his palm, a tiny white dove, a red flower and pink... leaf?  


Is this guy even sane? Maybe the socialization program is designed to help 'fix' people who have proven criminally insane, and the prisoners are being brought in as no-cost volunteers. Shit idea, resocializing this man with the 'scum of society', but if it gets him out of prison time Gavin doesn't give a fuck. Still, he can't help but feel a little bad for the guy, stuck with crappy company in the middle of nowhere being recorded like a test subject. Doctor Insomniac never even used the guy's name, what the hell?  


Picking up on the sound of a repetitive hollow thud, Gavin ignores the slightly nauseous turn of his stomach and Gavin looks over his shoulder at the others. Jonas has picked up the tennis ball and has begun bouncing it off the closed gate, Tall Dark and Creepy watching the movement of the ball like a hawk but otherwise not moving from his corner. Crazy is running her hands on the rough walls and ranting about a dog she saw on the street, like some knock off reality tv gossip. Junkie is no longer staring off into space, but rather has his eyes shut tight and brows furrowed in what can only be an attempt to fight a nervous breakdown, stave off getting sick, or potentially both.  


Gavin looks for a clock but finds none, and curses. He guesses they've been here, what, five minutes? Ten? Is this seriously going to take the whole three hours? He takes a deep breath and considers his next action.  


One one hand, he could join Jonas and throw the ball around, not very appealing but not boring either. However, he is not very keen on the sharp stare that SCP-whatever is giving Jonas so that idea's out. On the other hand, he could pick up a piece of chalk and draw something. He isn't the best at art and chalk is for babies, but again, better than nothing. His third option is to walk around more, maybe investigate the broken metal or the other random junk in here. He silently tidies the chalk as he debates the latter two options, before deciding he'd rather not approach druggie right now and instead selecting two pieces of white and brown chalk from the box.  


Taking care not to invade on the living statue's drawing space, he begins to draw the one thing he wants most in the world right now: coffee. A small white cup and a brown circle later he has a steaming cup of dark roast sitting on the wall in front of him, and he spares a glance over his shoulder. Crazy is still caressing the walls, druggie is still trying not to pass out, and Jonas has started trying to hit the ceiling with each throw. Hell, maybe Sergeant Stick-Up-His-Ass was right, maybe they were children. But as his eyes take in the area, the key difference is a cold set of blue-grey eyes meeting Gavin's stare from across the room. He nearly flinches from the intensity of the gaze, but it almost seems softer in comparison to before. More curious than upset about Gavin taking the chalk. Regardless, he flashes a nervous grin and returns the chalk to its box.

  


He has just committed to skirting past druggie on his way to check out the statuette when the man in question's eyes snapped open and he shouts, "Argh, damn it, I can't take it anymore! Do something!" Gavin finds himself frozen in place, habitually taking up a defensive stance in case he needs to move, while Jonas, blonde crazy and brunet maybe crazy have all stopped and turned to stare as well.  


Druggie growls at 987, "Well? Fuckin' do something! I can't stand the goddamn silence anymore! SAY SOMETHING FREAK!" Gavin's brows furrow as he takes in druggie's posture, and notes that he is likely to resort to violence if he doesn't get a response fast. The silent male increases the severity of his stare but says nothing, though the blue circle on his temple has gone a faint yellow-gold. Is it connected to his *brain?* The hell?  


Against his better judgement, Gavin has begun to approach, so that if junkie tries something he will have the element of surprise, or at the very least a head start. Sure enough, junkie jumps for something to Gavin's left and instinct alone has Gavin lunging after him to stop the motion. Letting an enraged addict going through withdrawal grab a weapon is about the worst thing Gavin can imagine right now, especially when the options are a heavy blunt weapon (the statuette) or actual shrapnel. He isn't quite fast enough, junkie manages to grab the statuette as Gavin shoves him, and he whirls to pitch it straight at 987 but Gavin intercepts it mid air and elbows the enraged man in the nose with a crunch. As he howls and drops like a stone, Gavin carefully sets the statuette out of range and waits for the little shit to stop bitching so he can straighten this fucker out. That always was his favourite part of being a cop.

  


Unbeknownst to Gavin, Jonas and the blonde are frozen in place, mouths gaping as they stare at SCP-987, who had abruptly coiled up like a predator ready to strike, only to stop mid motion. He was only barely touching the ground, no more than the toes of his left foot touching the concrete, right leg still extended forward in a physics destroying display of balance. The light had begun flashing quickly and retained a yellow colour, but was now fading back to blue as Gavin shouted at the injured male for trying to attack his "only chance at parole". He continues to savagely ream the man about destruction of property, extended sentences and "just flat out being an asshole", but for Jonas it was in one ear and out the other, because SCP-987's shadow has begun to thrash as the *thing* straightened it's collar and dawned an expression of interest. This thing isn't human, it can't be. This isn't worth it. Fuck this social testing bullshit, at least if Jonas had went to prison he'd know he'll get to see his family again, he can't do that if he's *dead*.  


Finally, druggie seems to have accepted his swift take down and consequent verbal beating, so Gavin turns around to find 987 staring at him placidly. He almost looks appreciative, even.  


Gavin forces his expression to relax, and gives the guy a confident smirk despite the slight shake in his hands. "Sorry about that idiot, some people are too stupid to understand that throwing things and screaming gets them nowhere. The name's Gavin, how about you?"  


Before 987 has a chance to respond, the intercom sparked to life in a crackle of static. "Today's task is now complete, thank you for your cooperation. The gate will be opening shortly, please step away from SCP-987 and exit promptly." Well, so much for learning his name. At least this shit's over with, not nearly as bad as Gavin expected it to be. Still, a month of dealing with these idiots is not his idea of a good time.  


They all take their time walking to the front of the room, but as Gavin goes to join them, he feels a cold hand on his shoulder. He instinctively shrugs it off and resolutely does not acknowledge it, but then a voice he doesn't recognize says "stay". The sound has an odd, resonant quality to it, quiet yet firm, and Gavin finds himself stopping short of the gate. The others have adopted a strange look of fear that makes dread coil in his stomach, but then the gate opens to reveal all eleven of the stationed guards training their guns straight at him. It's only when the sound of stone scratching concrete sounds behind him (1, 2, 3) that he is very abruptly reminded of the fact that 987 is only "probably safe, if not upset" and he may have just become a hostage.  


Suddenly, something cool but solid has wrapped around his waist and pulled him back toward the room, the scratches becoming louder (4, 5, 6) all the while. Suddenly the men outside the cell are shouting, some pouring forward to grab the three prisoners, others yelling about 'closing the gate' and 'activating the field'. And help isn't coming, not for Gavin. They are going to lock him in.

He feels the blood drain from his face and struggles against the hold on his midsection, a weird black object that looks somewhere between a rope and a claw with small flecks of red-then-yellow glowing spots smattered across it. He is distinctly aware that no such object existed in this room before as a slow, metallic screech rings out behind him (7). The gate begins to shut, and his heartbeat is in his ears as he grunts and curses. A terrifying snap of steel far too close to his unprotected right side, and the sound of screaming metal and grinding stone grates his ears (8). The gate slams shut, and a final, deceptively quiet ninth scrape meets his ears, and then nothing but silence.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So he's not dead! But you knew that, I'm sure. Things are still kinda soft right now, but don't worry it gets worse. Gonna have to add some tags
> 
> Also this thing has grown way out of control, I now have timelines for like four other fics in the same AU, who knows if they'll be written though. Also, 90% of off behaviour is intentional due to past experience of the character/emotional state, the remaining 10% is my naturally weird behaviour being accidentally projected.
> 
> I'm really interested in seeing how all of this is interpreted though, let me know what you think!

For a few moments, every hair on Gavin's body stands on end, and his ears ring in the all consuming silence. Then, the black appendage at his midsection vanishes, and he collapses to the ground, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to catch the breath that evacuated his lungs. He's alive.

He's alive... for now. And he isn't alone.

Eyes snapping open, Gavin rolls from his back onto his feet and springs up. Keeping his eyes forward as he takes 3 steps back toward the gate, he observes the strange man with more caution than before. Immaculate brown hair, neutral yet not severe expression, cold and curious eyes, stiff but non-threatening posture... 987 isn't trying to scare him, or harm him. And when Gavin takes a fourth, slow step backward as the ring of yellow light at 987's temple fades back to blue, he determines that he isn't going to be restrained anymore either.

The black appendages are entirely gone, not a trace of them remaining in the room other than fresh lines scraped onto the walls, floor and ceiling. He supposes that this was how the wall scratches had happened before, and that idea is far from comforting. One of the larger pieces of metal debris has been snapped cleanly in two, one half lodged in the wall and the other resting by a small table wedged in the corner, which he guesses was previously hidden from sight by 987 himself standing in front of it.

Most disturbingly of all, even though 987 is completely motionless his shadow is writhing, darker than it should be under the old, environmentally unfriendly yellow light bulbs. The man's mouth ticks up at the corner as his icy eyes scan over Gavin much the same way Gavin had scanned over him, yet he is hit with the uncanny feeling that 987 sees far more than he can. He blinks, and the spell is broken.

  


"What in the fresh fuck was _that?_ What the hell just happened? What are yo-" Gavin cuts himself off with a jolt of fear as something flickers in the other's expression, and nearly sighs in relief when he realizes it is only amusement.

And then he breaks into a cold sweat, because it is _amusement_. This ethereal light glowing, shadow manipulating, _needs a dozen guns to keep him at bay_ motherfucker is amused at him and he looks all too much like Gavin's cat before she pounces. The appendages that were holding Gavin in place before had appeared and disappeared seamlessly with seemingly no origin other than the spot where he had expected 987 to be. The glow at his temple was not some stick on electrode or rave light, it was buried in the skin like a tag. And the voice he heard before, he still couldn't place it but there was something distinctly wrong with the sound.

This man- thing- the figure before him is not human. Gavin doesn't know what he IS, but it sure as shit isn't human. He's not dead yet, but it's only a matter of time before 987 gets bored and rips him to shreds.

Oh God, oh fuck. His throat constricts and he gulps a harsh breath, nearly choking on it. _Get it together, Reed. Stay calm. Stay focused. Keep him in your line of sight. No sudden movements, don't set him off._ He exhales, then takes another, slower breath. This is fine. Everything is fine. No one is angry, no one is being hurt, he's not going to die, everything is _fine_. He resolutely ignores the slight wheeze of his chest on his next exhale.

After a few minutes of staring down the nameless supernatural from across the room and steadying his breathing, Gavin comes to the realization that it- he has no plan for Gavin. He's just watching, looking to see what Gavin will do. Alright, shit, if he wants to play nice, Gavin can play fucking nice.

  


"So, uh...." He cringes. _Stupid. If you are going to talk, do it right, don't show fear._ He clears his throat. "So. That was completely horrifying. Is that normal around here?" Nailed it. 

987 says nothing, but his mouth twitches again, nearly an actual smile this time. Well at least Gavin has that going for him. "You, ah, never told me your name?" 

Does he even have a name? Humans give themselves names, but would a humanoid not-human have one? Would he have been given one by a human family? No, there's no way anyone could spend a prolonged amount of time with this guy without realizing he's something else. Gavin doesn't see any non-human body part on the guy excluding the weirdass spinny LED, but his gut has been screaming about how wrong everything was since the moment he set foot in the building, and he isn't exactly blind to the oddness of 987’s body language. 

Now that he's looking for it, everything about this guy reminds him of Katrina; a calm bravado arising from the certainty that he will get anything and everything he wants, or else. Fuck, will Gavin ever see his cat again, or just this human sized demon knock-off?

  


The quiet is broken by the speaker system crackling to life once more, and the voice of hopefully-his-saviour Doctor Insomnia starts up. "Gavin Reed, this is Dr. West. We need to know how you are. Are you injured, or do you feel faint in any way? The room has audio surveillance, just speak in the direction of the gate." Oh thank fuck they haven't abandonded him. He feels his shoulders drop, and tries not to let his voice crack as he responds.

"I'm fine! Got a little winded, but nothing's broken! What the hell is going on here?!"

There is a crackle of static as Dr. West presumably hits the intercom button, but hesitates to talk. "..That is highly classified information Mr. Reed, but rest assured we will not stop working until we find a solution. The situation appears to be stable so we don't want to push SCP-987 into another volatile episode. Just hold on for a few hours and we'll figure something out." 

"A few HOURS?! I was just tossed around like a softball by some edgy shadow bender, the fuck do you mean a few hours?!" The static lingers a moment before cutting out, and Gavin realizes that help is definitely not as close as he thought. He curses the scientist out, swearing a blue streak in an attempt to get him back on the line, but it becomes quickly obvious that no one is talking to him again for a while. 

  


Allowing himself to trail off, he realizes that as his words become quieter, the silence seems louder. Only broken by the sound of his own breathing, and the electronic hum of the glowing hologram field he had passed on his way in. Until Dr. West left, Gavin had been facing 987, but he had turned away in his attempt to demand the doctor's return. Now, his skin was prickling with nerves as he turned back around. 

987 was exactly where he had been before, with no difference other than a tilt of his head. Ok, he didn't miss anything. Good.

When the silence remains between them, growing heavier by the moment, 987 makes the first move. This instantly puts Gavin on guard. 987 turns to the wall on Gavin's right, striding with purpose towards it. Intently watching as 987 bends down and collects the box of chalk, Gavin's brow furrows as he tries to figure out exactly what the other is doing. Maybe he just wants to d- but no, he's walking away from the wall, _towards Gavin_.

  


Rather than tensing, Gavin forces his body to remain loose. _Don't show fear, play nice. I’m not going to be murdered with a piece of chalk, that is the least efficient tool for murder in the room._ Finally, 987 comes to a stop in front of Gavin, and pulls out 1, 2, 3.. 9 pieces of chalk. The six colours of the rainbow, plus white, brown and black. Well really, it's more like a dark grey because its chalk, but still.

987 doesn't move to do anything else. Not dropping the chalk, or the box. Not walking away (shit why is he standing so close, and wait, is he even breathing?) and not walking closer. After a few moments of staring, acutely aware of the less-than-2ft of distance between them, Gavin jumps as 987 jabs his hand toward him. A few more seconds of resettling his pulse and staring later, he realizes that he is supposed to take the chalk.

Well, what the fuck now? He doesn't want to get closer but 987 is initiating and he can't exactly say no to anything right now without risking his safety. _Hell, alright, let's do this._

Gavin reaches out, in what he hopes is a steady but not too slow motion, and holds his hand underneath 987's. Unexpectedly, 987 grabs it, and Gavin is almost too busy fighting the urge to flinch to notice how gentle the touch is. The other is practically ghosting over his hand, the contact a mere whisper as the chalk is softly deposited in his palm. Warm fingers curl Gavin's own shut around the chalk before withdrawing, 987 stepping back outside of his space.

For some reason he can't explain Gavin feels calmer than before, even though if this had been anyone else, even in normal conditions he would be flipping his shit over it. Too much physical contact and unwanted intimacy with someone he barely knows. He doesn't like the fact that whatever that was soothed him, but it restored his very limited composure, so he'll question it at a later time. As Gavin takes a matching backwards step, 987 extracts a piece of used blue chalk from the box, sits down in the middle of the floor and begins to scribble like an infant.

He blinks a few times to make sure that he is in fact seeing a grown-ass 6'1 man playing with sidewalk chalk, but the image remains unchanged as the blob of blue slowly grows. Oh boy. 

Judging by the chalk shoved into his hand and the look he had received earlier, 987 has decided it is time to "bond" and that "drawing together" is a perfect way to do that. _'Play nice'_ he reminds himself. This isn't forever, and it's not the worst thing someone's made him do.

  


He doesn't bother with attempting any grace, thumping down with a huff as he settles on the floor as well. He can feel the other's eyes boring into him, but studiously ignores the feeling as he crosses his legs and puts the chalk by his feet. What next? It is very clear that 987 has no expectations for what Gavin should draw, if the messy cloud of blue is any indication, but what does he want to draw? When all else fails, he tends to think about his cat. Just the thought of her fluffy gray striped fur has him longing to hold her again, so he picks up the dark gray and the white chalk, and inwardly hopes they will blend.

Putting down the white first, he outlines the round but lean shape of her body (who is he kidding this is generic cat-34, he has no drawing talent), then he fills it all in before switching to the pseudo-black chalk and covering it over. He tries to make it lighter in some spots and denser in others to show the stripes, but the whole thing comes out a gray blob of variable shades. Damn. Still, no matter how shitty the sketch is, seeing a reminder of Katrina makes the ache in his heart lessen. He hasn't seen her in nearly a month due to legal bullshit, and god knows how long it will be now.

The light scratch and scrape of chalk is oddly comforting, and despite everything he feels himself relaxing, and for the third time that day wonders if he really is just a child. The sound of shifting fabric followed shortly by another echo of trailing chalk tells Gavin that 987 has finally stopped staring and resumed drawing. When he looks up he sees that the other had adjusted to his right side, and begun to draw something in orange. Gavin can't even begin to guess what it is, other than some sort of four legged creature, but figures that maybe 987 is copying him and drawing animals. Alright, he can work with that.

  


_________

  


In what felt like no time, the both of them are surrounded by drawings and have their hands covered in colourful powder. Gavin had drawn a bird that looked suspiciously like the twitter logo, a large orange fox, a snake that more closely resembled a green noodle, a tennis ball, baseball, basketball, and a soccer ball before it truly dawned on him how uncreative he was. 987 has drawn nine probably-cats, nine colourful looking birds, and is currently working on his second spider. Gavin finds that he hates it immensely, solely for the reason that the first spider had genuinely scared him for a fraction of a second.

Brushing the chalk from his hands on the concrete with a debatable level of success, he attempts to break the silence of the past however-fucking-long-its-been, "You really like the number nine, huh?" 

While 987 doesn't respond, he does stop drawing his spider and direct his attention to Gavin. He isn't sure if that's a victory or the exact opposite of what he wanted. He continues anyway.

"I mean, you draw in sets of nine, you gave me nine pieces of chalk," _you put nine massive fucking gouges in the wall_ , but Gavin is not about to bring the latter point up again. "Is nine your favourite number, or is this some weird culture thing? It seems pretty deliberate, so.." Except 987 is looking at him with what is probably the easiest to read expression he's worn yet: complete and utter confusion. Was he actually not doing it on purpose?

The sharp blue eyes continue to stare at him, though this time it seems more like he's staring at nothing and Gavin happens to be in the way. Shit, is he broken? Gavin decides to wait it out, mainly because he has no idea what to do. Some people react badly to being shaken out of this sort of thing, and he has no intention of finding out if this applies to whatever 987 is too. But soon, what had to be at least 5 minutes has passed, and he feels like he's going to jump out of his skin if he waits any longer. He doesn't need to touch the guy, or even get close really. He could just try to call his... name? Is 987 his name or what?

  


"...Hey, uh, you in there, nine-" before Gavin even gets to finish, the man's head snaps up and hones in on him with pinpoint accuracy. Gavins could swear his pupils slit like a cat, but when he blinks the image is gone. "Jesus fuck! Give a guy some warning, Nines!"

As he clutches at his chest and feels his pulse rate race from the impromptu jumpscare, he hears an odd noise. Something between a loud exhale and a grunt. He looks up to see 987 with a furrow between his brows, opening and closing his mouth with nothing more than tiny, raspy breaths escaping.

What the fuck? Is he having a heart attack? Can he even have one of those? Or maybe he's trying to speak? He spoke earlier but it sounded weird, maybe there's a problem with his throat? Either way, something is clearly happening.

"Shit, are you ok? Did something happen?" Gavin's words seem to have some sort of effect, as the other looks up immediately, and shockingly Gavin actually gets a verbal answer.

" ** _Nines..?_** "

Just like the first time he heard the voice, the slightly off reverb of a smooth tenor settles strangely under Gavin's skin. But this time, the hairs on his arms rise and he rubs his eyes, because the man's mouth didn't move. First dark magic bullshit, now _telepathy? What did he-_ no. Not right now. Focus.

It takes Gavin a moment to realize why "Nines" may have been a significant enough phrase for the other to actually speak. Gavin had called him Nines, and apparently this was a very important event. Was that good or bad? He doesn't know what he'd do if he died for giving someone a nickname. Probably not much, since he'd be busy being dead. Fuck.

"Um, yeah. You uh, didn't tell me your name, and 987 sounds way too impersonal, like I'm talking to my phone. And it suits you I guess, so..." This has to be the most awkward he's ever felt in his life. But evidently, Nines is pleased. 

" ** _Nines._** " This time, the word was said with a definitively proud tone, rather than surprise. He even smiles, albeit a somewhat stilted one with a few too many teeth to have come naturally to him. But still, he seems genuinely happy. Nines it is then, 987 sounded stupid in his head anyways.

"So you're good then? You aren't hurt or something?" Nines shakes his head, still smiling that too wide smile. At least one of them is having a good time. Even then, Gavin isn't currently having a bad time, he'd just rather have a choice about whether he stays or not. He doesn't think he could stand being here long term, but help is only a few hours away and this is far from the worst way for him to spend his time. The situation is fucked, but after some distance he might not mind coming back to visit.

And hold up, when did THAT happen? It couldn't have possibly been more than an hour or two since he thought Nines had been about to murder him as the door trapped him in here. He can't already like the guy, that's not possible. But low and behold, the two of them are sat so close they are nearly touching, one full of joy and the other much too relaxed for having nearly died that same day.

The thought alone unsettles him, and quite a bit of the comfort he'd built up dissipated like sand running off his hands. Scattering in the wind yet still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, he finds that even though the calm terrifies him he feels no more threatened than he had minutes before. He tries not to think about it too much right now, and decides to leave colouring time in favour of spending some time alone at the pathetic little table in the corner.

Apparently Nines does have some semblance of social awareness, because he doesn't approach Gavin or try to "talk" or bond with him any more, he just picks up his chalk again and continues his set of spiders. Gavin hates the appreciation he feels at the action, and smothers it as he crouches under the chairless table and leans back against the wall.

  


As the gentle scratch of chalk starts up once again, Gavin closes his eyes and ignores the migraine building up in the back of his head and tries to rest a little, even if actually sleeping is out of the question.

Just a few more hours. A few more hours, then he can sort out whatever these conflicting feelings are somewhere that doesn't have a supernatural man child with abandonment issues. Just a few more hours.

Just a few more...

  


_________

  


He wakes up with a wordless shout as something sharp pokes him in the shoulder. Snapping his eyes open and reaching for a gun that isn't there, he comes face to face with a vanishing puff of black and blue smoke, and an expressionless mask of a person staring him down from 5 feet away.

He doesn't get much chance to panic about that before remembering where he is, which of course makes him resume his previous panic with even greater intensity because he _fucking fell asleep around the demon man-child oh dear God._ Said demon man child is still looking at him, not unlike his cat when Gavin sleeps in and doesn't feed her on time, a quiet disapproval and question wrapped in one.

Shit, fuck, ok. Just, think. The lack of a clock in here hasn't changed since he apparently passed out, though his back hurts from sitting curled up under the table, so it's been more than three hours. Fuck, did he miss his chance to escape? And son of a bitch, he's thirsty as hell.

It looks like Nines finished the spiders, and started drawing... eyes? Fish? What are those supposed to be? Beside that, there is a massive smear of peach, brown and grey, which appears to have been intentionally smudged away.

Additionally, the scraps leather that had once been considered a bean bag chair has been reduced bits of stuffing and scattered strips. Fun.

His shoulder aches a little from where the sharp thing, presumably the same voodoo magic arm that grabbed him earlier, poked him awake. Thankfully, there's no blood, but his shirt now has a small rip in it. Whatever, he hated the shitty prison uniform anyway.

So why was he woken up?

  


"What do you want? Are you bored?" Nines blinks. For a brief moment he looks hurt, and Gavin realizes he may have come off as harsh. The look doesn’t last long before Nines straightens up and a neutral mask slams back into place as the PA system crackles on.

"Mr. Reed, we need a response from you in the next hour, or we will be presuming you dead. Please inform us-" Shit, shit, **shit**. He hasn't missed his chance yet, but he will soon.

"I'M HERE! I- I'm alive, don't leave." As he scrambles out from under the table, he sees Nines track the motion with a forced looking expression of calm. He ignores it. "Shit, I fell asleep. What time is it, how long have I been here?"

"You have been in SCP-987's chamber for 7 hours and 38 minutes, Mr. Reed. We have been attempting to contact you for over 2 hours. We have a few questions for you regarding your extended experience with SCP-987."

"Oh is that what you're calling this? An 'extended experience'?! Phckin' hell.. Yeah sure, shoot." Nines jolts in the corner of his vision, but otherwise doesn't react. Alright, Gavin has to be careful with this. At least he gets why Dr. West has been so cagey, he doesn't wanna trigger Nines. "One condition, bring me some water or something later, I'm thirsty as hell."

"I'm sure that can be arranged Mr. Reed. First question. We already asked earlier, but how is your head feeling? No excessive dizziness or pain? And you are certain you fell asleep rather than fainted?"

That is not the question Gavin expected from this. But then again, he remembers Nines talking to him with psychic powers or something, maybe migraines and shit are side effects of his weird magic. Damn, he can't believe that is a sentence he genuinely, seriously thought, what is his life?

"I had a migraine a few hours ago, but it was gone when I woke up. I don't remember falling asleep but I'm usually a light sleeper unless I've had a few, you seriously buzzed the room before now?"

"Yes, we have attempted communication 5 times, not including this instance. We are quite glad to know you haven't had a heart attack Mr. Reed." The man says it in a deadpan, serious manner, but Gavin laughs because in spite of the lacklustre delivery he can still appreciate a good joke. Dark humour is his favourite, and right now the situation is full of it.

  


"Alright, question number two. Do you recall what SCP-987's scream sounded like? We have been unable to get a reliable description of it, and you appeared to retain consciousness throughout your kidnapping." Gavin blinks. He stares at the flickering red light on the wall near the gate, where he sees the com system is located. Staring doesn't make the question any clearer.

"What screaming? He was the only person *not* screaming when all that shit went down, he'd been dead fucking quiet other than asking me to stay."

"You don't remember hearing SCP-987 scream? Ms. Porter, Mr. Ruiz and Mr. Murray have all reported memory of a loud scream they cannot articulate consistently. Several staff have reported the same."

"Look I don't know what you're getting at, but I didn't hear shit. He lodged shrapnel in the wall with his witch tenacles, and fuck you for not warning me about that shit by the way, but he never screamed. I'd fucking know, I was right there."

"Well if you are certain, then what about SCP-987's voice? You said it asked you to stay, what does it's voice sound like, and when did it speak?"

Gavin bristles, the word 'it' hitting his ears abrasively as he looks at Nines, who at some point had turned his back on the conversation to stare at the statuette. His shoulders look tense, more so than before at least. Gavin frowns, and reminds himself that he doesn't care before he answers Dr. West.

"He asked me to stay just before the gate opened, he kind of sounds like a breathy tenor but with an echo, I guess. Why does this matter? I thought you were asking about my well being or some shit after learning that magic is real."

"SCP-987 has not vocalized outside of its telepathic screams, and we are currently unsure if they can be truly classified as screams since no one can recall the precise sound, only the memory of what the sound was supposed to be.” 

So they either don’t know any more than he does, or they know a lot more and refuse to share. Is this because he’s a civilian, or because he is a convict? What, they think the trash of society don’t deserve to know they are marching to their deaths? 

Gavin tries not to think about the fact that this time last year he probably wouldn’t have had any objections to that. Changing perspectives is a bitch.

  


“Question three. We noticed that you stopped attempting to leave the room rather abruptly before the gate opened, and in light of your claim that SCP-987 spoke to you, I would like to know your reasoning.

His reasoning? Did he have a reason at all? “..I don’t know. Nothing told me to stop, but leaving didn’t feel right, I guess? Walking away just felt.. Wrong. I can’t put it into words.”

“You didn’t feel compelled to stay, but you felt compelled to not leave?” 

“Why does that matter, is there something you’re trying to say?”

“Mr. Reed, if you have no further information about his vocalization we would like to move on."

Well, talk about dodging the question. 

This entire situation is stupid, and they aren't telling him anything. He has no idea what's going on, they lied to him about what would be happening and sent him to his potential death, so you know what? "No, nothing else, ask the next question already."

If they won't give him the full truth, he doesn't have to give them the full truth either. It’s not like Nines’s reaction to the nickname is important to their twisted little study anyways. Maybe if they get off their asses he'll change his mind, but doesn't see that happening any time soon.

  


"Question four, what are your feelings towards SCP-987?"

"Skip." There is silence on the other end of the line, for a moment. Then.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reed?" Oh you hear that? Actual emotion in that man’s tone. Indignation, but emotion nonetheless. Gavin finds it darkly satisfying.

"You heard me! I have no fucking clue what I'm feeling right now, the only thing I'm sure of is that I'm never trusting a legal compromise again, not after _you fuckers_ lied to me."

"We never told any lies to-"

"You didn't tell ANY of us the whole truth! Lies by omission and failure to comply with disclosure agreements can be seen as dishonesty in a court of law. For your sake I hope there isn't any other shit you kept hidden from us."

The silence returns to the intercom for a minute, and Gavin inwardly hopes he didn't scare the asshole into leaving him here to rot, but then Dr. West clears his throat.

"Your feedback on the experience has been noted, thank you for your time. We will be sending in a retrieval team in 20 minutes, with water as per your request. Thank you for your patience, and we apologize for any undue trauma." The coms click off without giving Gavin a chance to respond. Prick.

  


Gavin snarls, and kicks the stray bits of chair stuffing, and glares as it defiantly flutters back to the ground instead of being punted into the large metal gate. _Nothing is going right today, damn it._ He kicks the nearby tennis ball, and its speedy collision and loud thump as it bounces off the door is much more gratifying. There is a blur in his vision for a moment, and suddenly just before the ball ricochets back to him its path is interrupted by Nines's foot.

Looking up, he sees that most of the other's tension is gone, though he once more wears a curious gaze. Ah hell, he doesn't need to read minds to know what Nines is thinking, that look isn’t new to him.

"I'm _fine._ I'm just angry, so fuck off before I take it out on you." To his credit, Nines doesn't seem to take this personally. He just rolls the ball back toward Gavin and wanders over to the corner Gavin had first seen him standing in, copying Gavin's own action of crawling underneath the table, yet somehow looking three times as elegant. At this point if Dr. West decided to chip in and say Nines was a cat in a human body, the fact that the good doctor elected to inform him would surprise him more than the knowledge itself.

Gavin picks up the ball, and begins tossing it back and forth against the wall. Twenty minutes, and then this whole twisted nightmare is over. _Yeah, fucking right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your fluff loving needs, know that the “... eyes? Fish?” drawings are actually Nines attempt to make more of Gavin’s coffee doodle from chapter one. He picked up on the fact that Gavin was upset, and remembered that Gavin drew the cup of coffee, so he tried to make more of them. Unfortunately, our dearest Nines doesn’t actually know what coffee is, so he didn’t know what colours he was supposed to use. The end result was a red cup with blue coffee, black cup with white coffee, brown cup with yellow coffee, and some eye searing combinations of green, blue and orange. He avoids purple though, so at least he's got that.
> 
> TL; DR
> 
> Gavin: I'm alive!  
> Nines: *Blinks*  
> Gavin: I'm so dead.
> 
> Dr. Insomnia: Yo bitch you dead?  
> Gavin: No, but I'm wildly uncomfortable.  
> Dr. Insomnia: Damn, that's a first. The living bit, not the discomfort, that's pretty common.
> 
> Nines: Play with me.  
> Gavin: _?_  
>  Nines: What's your favourite colour?  
> Gavin: _???_  
>  Nines: You are literally my favourite person, I've only known you for like 5 minutes but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this building and then myself.  
> ...  
> Next chapter Author-chan: ThAt CaN bE aRrAnGeD.


	3. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ok so major warnings here** : Death, blood, discussion of nausea. 
> 
> **More spoilery warnings, but still important for people with triggers** : Near death experience, serious illness as a result of dehydration, mild memory loss, devaluing of human life (albeit in a humorous fashion), Gavin making very questionable decisions due to reasons I don’t explain, and platonic intimacy while one character is only half awake and would not normally consent. No main character death, and the intimacy is not severely violating nor is it hated after the character regains their senses.
> 
> I’ll explain more in the post chapter notes, and if anyone has something they want me to add to the warnings or tags, or any questions, I’ll try to answer. This is it for the fic, but maybe not for the series.

“Catch, 300!” Gavin throws the ball hard against the wall, and curses as the ball sails past him, only to be caught by the tattered remains of leather and stuffing that was once a bean bag chair. 

Damn, he needed those points, how else is he going to get jackpot? It’s not like he can control exactly what points each round is worth, he could be here forever, except _oh wait, he IS the person in control of those things, because he is the only person playing._

“Shit, I’m already losing it, aren’t I?” Gavin huffs, ignoring Nines looking up at him from his spot under the table.

“Mr Reed? Please approach the gate, we will be entering momentarily.” 

Gavin startles, and releases a sharp breath as he realizes that the twenty minutes are up. Or, he thinks they are up. Either way, it's time to leave. 

“Yeah sure, did you remember that water? I’m thirsty as hell.” 

“A security guard will be bringing you a bottle of water, and there is a medical team and recovery station waiting for you in the cafeteria, any purchases you make will be covered by the facility.” 

“I’d fucking hope so, I’d rather not pay to be traumatized, thanks,” Gavin mutters as he approaches the gate. He is only 3 steps away when the air seems to shift, and the static of the PA seems to intensify.

“ **FREEZE. Mr Reed, do not move an inch. SCP-987 has performed a leap, and is standing directly behind you. Any further attempts to approach the gate may result in it taking you hostage again or lashing out.** ”

He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, as the air almost seems to thicken and the lights flicker as impossible shadows dance across the room.

“...Nines?”

The darkness on the walls seems to deepen, sharpen, as tangible forms emerge from them. The static hum of the holo-field marking the gate tingles on his skin, even several feet away. The mechanical sound of the gate starting to open greets his ears.

Footsteps. 

Nines is right behind him. Now, more than ever before, it is obvious Nines is something else. Not even a fraction of a human. Gavin can _feel him_ , right at his back. 

This is it, right here, this is where it ends. If he isn’t killed for trying to leave, he’s spending the rest of his miserable life here, with a mentally unstable not-human watching after him like some sort of demented caretaker. 

He swallows roughly, and tries again. “Nines, what are you doing?” 

Gavin’s heart leaps to his throat, breath strangled by his ribs as he feels Nines’s chin rest on his shoulder. An odd, quiet buzz fills his right side with white noise, and despite everything, his body starts to relax. He doesn’t want to relax, he wants to push away, to scream, to get this **thing** out of his personal space. 

But anything like that would be the end for him. Any of it. So he stays silent, as tiny tremors begin to wrack his frame. The buzz shifts, and rather than physical a mental calm spreads over his mind. 

He realizes, or maybe remembers, that it wouldn’t make sense for Nines to hurt him. Not if he is trying so hard to keep him here. But still, if he is truly stuck here…

The gate is open.

A soldier steps inside, other soldiers holding guns aimed for them both. Hysterically, Gavin notes that the soldier is holding not only a bottle of water, but a colouring book. What is this, a trade? 

“SCP-987, release. Object switch initiated.” Holy shit, he’s being bargained for. For a colouring book. 

_What even is my life right now? Apparently, an equivalent value of $2.49._

Nines does not take the book.

He can’t see the man’s face, but he likes to think the expression is just as taken aback as he is. Nobody moves for a while, and he can’t take the tension as he fights not to tap his foot. The soldier is unyielding and serious, deadpan as he awaits a response to his command for Nines. 

He can’t stand it anymore, Gavin decides that if his life is worth a colouring book, then he might as well gamble with it. He goes for a smirk, but probably lands somewhere closer to a grimace. “So Nines. Are you going to let me take that water or what?” 

Without a moment of hesitation, a shadow shoots off the wall, takes the water bottle from the soldier’s hand and promptly takes the colouring book as well. Both items are shoved into Gavin’s arms faster than he can blink while someone yells, and he finds himself body blocked by Nines as *actual gunfire sounds off*. 

Instinct has him dropping to a crouch to minimize his target size, and the world abruptly goes black. If not for the fact that he can still hear the gunshots, albeit muffled, he would think he had died right then. But the same… solid mist sort of texture is surrounding him as before, when he had been grabbed. 

Nines hasn’t just moved him, he’s engulfed him in eldritch appendages, an unnatural cage. Though, with the amount of gunfire and screams outside, he is almost inclined to call it a shield. 

And there are screams. Not Nines, like Dr West had mentioned. No, the guards are screaming. The harsh shouts of a man shot down in the field, a sound Gavin couldn’t forget after his time on the force. People are getting hit. People are dying. And they wouldn’t be killing each other, which could only mean-

“NINES, WHAT THE HELL!? STOP! LET ME GO, STOP THIS SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK-” The shadows vanish, and yet again Gavin finds himself colliding with the floor. This time, he thought he was ready. But when he looks up, he realizes he was wrong.

They were all dead. All of them but one. Bleeding out all over the floor, covered in a mix of bullet holes, puncture wounds or both. The lone survivor is standing on the other side of the gate, rapidly signalling for it to close. Gavin was being left here, with an actual killer, surrounded by corpses. No, god, please no. 

“Fu- wh- _don’t-_ ” He can’t breathe, why can’t he breathe? This isn’t the worst he’s seen, he’s worked in the homicide department, but something about this, the moment, knowing that he’s the reason this all happened…

He can’t articulate how much he despises the idea of being trapped in a room with the dead, but Nines seems to get the message anyway as he _flings the fallen soldiers through the closing sliver of the gate_. When the metal clangs shut, Gavin is locked in with a whole lot of blood and anxiety, but no actual bodies. His throat is dry, but his eyes are wet. 

“This is so fucked. What the hell. I don’t- I can’t believe-” He steps in the blood. It takes more willpower than he would ever admit for him to not throw up. 

Nines is just as covered in blood, wounds in his chest and shoulder leaking red, but somehow he’s still standing. Nines takes a step towards him, and Gavin drops everything as he scrambles for the table in the corner. He crams himself underneath as fast as humanly possible, jamming his elbow on the wall in the process. The table is a flimsy defense at best, and normally he’d prioritize an unaffected, strong front over taking cover from a non-hostile like a coward, but at this rate he’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t have some sort of safe space.

Nines watches him, paying no mind to the bottle and book Gavin fumbled, a slight crease in his brows and a red glow at his temple. He continues to stare without doing anything, and Gavin eventually breaks his gaze to stop the crawling feeling under his skin. 

For a little bit, he’d almost forgotten Nines was a threat. He’d thought of the strange man as any old less-than-legal ally he’d had in the past, not the best company but tolerable when need be. He’d almost forgotten that Nines imprisoned him here, that he had what looked like demonic powers, was able to cut through concrete walls. 

Clearly that was a mistake.

Something touches his foot and he flinches, jolting his head into the table’s underside painfully. His wide eyes settle on the water bottle, resting against his foot. It must have rolled there from across the room, judging by the metallic scent and the amount of sticky red clinging to the paper Dasani label. 

This, of all things, pushes the bile up to the back of his throat, and the burning taste of stomach acid lingers as he swallows it down. His lungs feel like they are collapsing and he remembers he needs to breathe. He can only manage harsh, off rhythm gasps, but it is better than not breathing at all. 

Iron and salt build an unpleasant tang in his nose. He feels simultaneously tired, and like he will never sleep again. All Gavin is certain of is that he isn’t leaving this corner for a good long while. Not when there are cold grey eyes staring him down, saturated with blood and darkness.

\------------

He drank the water. 

He felt disgusted by the blood crusted plastic, but the fact of the matter is that it had been over a day since he got locked in here, he was thirsty and he needed a piss. Considering the lack of sink or toilet, the bottle was his best bet for both once he got the guts to stand up again. 

Nines doesn’t seem like he’s going to lose his shit again any time soon. After the first time Gavin expressed open discomfort, Nines had gently set the colouring book and some chalk on a clean patch of floor and retreated to a corner of the room to spin his tennis ball and observe Gavin. 

Now, Gavin was alternating between actually drawing as a way to destress and just scrawling help messages over the pages. Dr. West had yet to check in on him again, for all Gavin knows they might have chosen to leave him to rot in here. 

The injustice of it drives him mad, and he hates that they aren’t going to rescue him from this hell, but logically he can’t blame them. Well, he does, but he understands their reasoning. The deaths of seven staff to rescue one piece of shit criminal from a supernatural demon cat in human flesh? Horrible trade off already, he gets that they wouldn’t try again, but fuck them for dooming him to a slow and painful death. 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles slightly and a dull ache spreads through his midsection. God, he’s hungry, he hasn’t eaten in so long. Nines fixes him with yet another questioning look, but Gavin doesn’t bother explaining himself. The last time he asked for water seven people died, he isn’t doing that shit again. 

Lately, Gavin has been napping for brief 30 minute intervals. He has yet to see the other sleep, he wouldn’t be surprised if he just lacked the ability to do so. Instead, the slate eyed man constantly observes Gavin. When Gavin shows more displeasure than normal, Nines occupies himself elsewhere, often with the statuette or chalk. But other than that, watching Gavin is all he does. Gavin has felt safer sleeping in a cardboard box than he does in this room, but at the same time something is telling him he isn’t in danger.

A feeling of curiosity washes over him, and he casts a glance around the room. Nothing really catches his attention, and confusion settles over him. When he looks at Nines, something feels purposeful there. When he tilts his head, a memory clicks into place. Telepathic, Dr. West said SCP 987 was telepathic. 

Is Nines trying to project his questions onto Gavin? Or just his desire to find answers? Nines himself is crouched in the scraps of the bean bag chair, eyes squinted as if he were scanning Gavin to find out the issue from sheer willpower alone. 

Maybe he can. Gavin shudders.

“Cut it out, you’re making me nervous,” Gavin says roughly. The intensity of the other’s stare decreases, as do Nines’s feelings from his mind. Good. The scrutiny does not vanish from his face as the yellow glows on his temple, interspersed with blue.

“Seriously Nines, I’m fine. Leave it alone.” 

Nines hesitates a moment, before holding up a piece of lime green chalk pointedly and patting the floor. Another thing Gavin has learned is that the guy genuinely seems to love colouring. Sometimes Gavin will see him scrubbing old drawings away, but if Nines catches him watching he always stops and moves like he wants Gavin to look at the doodles first.

Right now, the thought of being too close to Nines feels idiotic, but he’s acting like a child and that is very difficult to be afraid of. He settles for a compromise; Gavin will draw with Nines to satisfy him while keeping a distance. Should make both of them calmer, the situation less risky.

Nines holds out his hand as Gavin approaches, clearing away bean bag fluff away with his arm. This is the same person who killed several people only hours ago. He doesn’t feel safe, per say, but Nines feels way less dangerous than he has any right to feel to Gavin. 

Gavin takes the chalk.

\------------

It’s been days. He thinks it has been days. It has to have been. Everything is fuzzy, his world painted in shades of discomfort and unwilling haze. He’s starving, and probably very dehydrated. His skin is itchy and dry, just like the back of his throat. He’s begun having issues with his balance due to severe dizziness, so he can’t keep pacing to stop from going insane, but he’s so spacey and unfocused it doesn’t concern him much anyways.

Nines has been growing increasingly agitated. Yellow red yellow blue red. That was the light on his head. It is mesmerizing, but it worsens Gavin’s already horrific migraine. 

Not too long ago Nines took up the habit of checking up on Gavin. The feeling of cold hands on his face, pressing softly onto his forehead, has become commonplace. He doesn’t complain, the feeling is nice albeit brief. 

There’s something he’s supposed to know about Nines, very important. He isn’t sure. Maybe it’s related to why he hasn’t told Nines about how shitty he feels, doesn’t want to worry him. That’s not it, not completely. There is something else, he’s sure, but Gavin can barely stay awake, let alone think. He’s been fainting often, and eyeing the yellow bottle in the corner with increasing frequency and desire. He’s so thirsty.

Everything hurts, so bad. Nines makes it better, chases away the heat and cold fighting for dominance under Gavin’s skin, and calms him when the pain makes him squirm. But Nines looks so concerned, so scared, all the time. He has mentally called his name before, when Gavin fainted, to ensure he was ok, but otherwise has not spoken.

But not this time. This time, the echoing tone brokers no argument. 

_**"How do I fix it?"** _

Why wasn’t he supposed to tell Nines again, because he would overreact? Gavin isn’t an idiot, if this keeps up he’s dead, and it is clear that Doctor asshole (he can’t _remember the name_ ) isn’t sending help. If he doesn’t tell Nines, he’s going to die. 

A frigid hand smooths over his forehead, and he leans away from it, too cold, he needs warmth, and **_Gavin, tell me now_** and-

“I think I’m dying”

His vision swims, but he couldn’t mistake the sight of the room darkening severely. His headache doesn’t cease. Piercing blue-grey eyes are locked on his own, a silent demand for more, and Gavin sees no reason not to comply.

“‘M really thirsty. Need water, and food. Gon’ die.”

He’s so tired.

The room goes from dim to black in an instant, an odd whine and loud crack accompanying the change. For a moment, he’s warm. Then he blinks, and the room is bright but he isn’t standing. 

Suddenly, he’s got an IV in his arm, and he’s lying on a couch. Someone is sitting on the arm of the couch, with a dancing glow lighting their dark hair blue. Pale hands grasping an ancient statuette, mouth moving in silent prayer, with shadows coating his skin. Nines.

He has no idea what happened, only vaguely remembers Nines, as scary comforting helpful weird protective, and so much pain. 

He doesn’t remember Nines catching him in shadowy appendages as he fainted. He doesn’t remember those same arms phasing through solid concrete, reaching and jabbing and lashing out until the humans checked the enclosure. He doesn’t remember the lone human medic sent in to care for him while Nines seethed in rage at the facility’s disregard for Gavin.

He never learned about the 9 person death count and numerous injuries caused by Nines’s tantrum. He never learned that the society had no idea Nines could reach beyond his enclosure, nor did he learn that they were now labelling Gavin himself as an accessory SCP used to calm 987. He never learned that Gavin is the first and only reason the society has seen Nines pray. There are so many things Gavin never learns or remembers about the past four days. Regardless, Dr. West takes it all down, and files it under SCP Incident-987-1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that explanation I mentioned. Gavin has severe dehydration in that last part. About three and a half-ish days had passed after he was initially trapped when Nines snapped after Gavin fainted, and Gavin also hadn’t eaten for four days.  
> After Gavin fell unconscious, Nines was furious that the facility was leaving Gavin to die, like he was nothing but another toy for him to play with. Nines can’t speak. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he is physically incapable, so he had to resort to other ways to get people’s attention. I’m not going to lie and say that the people dying were accidents, but it also wasn’t something that he wanted to happen, if that makes sense. Another plot thing for later. To be fair though, he did not intend for 9 people to die even if it is thematically accurate, the problem is that people were panicking and running away or entering containment breach procedure instead of coming back to see why he was freaking out, so he had to make things more intense to force their hands.
> 
> Once they figured out “oh shit its human is dying” they sent a message over the PA telling SCP-987 that they were sending a medic, who was scared shitless but basically told ‘do it by choice or we throw you in there permanently’. SCP society doesn’t fuck around. So medic enters, is not immediately killed, and hooks Gavin up to IV drips for fluid and nutrients. After Nines calms down they bring in small comforts like the couch, a temporary water cooler and an outhouse to accomodate Gavin in an attempt to pre-empt the next freak out. They were going to remove Gavin under the guise of medical treatment, but Nines _broke_ the gurney with one swing and they decided not to fuck with that at the moment. 
> 
> This isn’t a healthy thing, between Gavin and Nines, but it is a thing none-the-less. Did Nines manipulate Gavin into feeling safe around him? No, actually, but he did force calm Gavin that once. Did Gavin semi-reconcile with Nines way too fast to be natural? Yes, he sure did, and there are reasons. Is Gavin going to spend the rest of his life in the SCP facility? Unless he and Nines break out together, yeah. Will they fuck? No, you nasties, but whether they are romantic or QPP by the end of the series is up to your imagination.  
> Now on a lighter note, the joke summaries.
> 
> Gavin: Anything I do will get me killed  
> Also Gavin: *Backsasses the same person he’s afraid of*
> 
> Soldier: Drop it! I said drop it, drop the Gavin!  
> Nines: *Looks into the camera like he’s in The Office*
> 
> Dr. West: So remember when I said I thought SCP-987 was ready for socializing?  
> Nines: *clinging to Gavin like a koala and hissing at anyone who gets too close*  
> Dr. West: I was wrong.
> 
> **Edit: It came to my attention that someone thought I was insulting people who like G9 when I said nasties, and I wanted to clarify that I said nasties in a loving jokey way, like gently teasing a friend for being thirsty, you know? G9 is a perfectly valid ship and I'm semi-partial to it myself. I'm really sorry if I upset anyone and I hope you see this apology if you read the fic back in the future.**


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